


i've stuck here waiting for the sun to come (but it never will)

by fruitlouis



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:10:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitlouis/pseuds/fruitlouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the shortest and possibly the most cliche thing i've ever written</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've stuck here waiting for the sun to come (but it never will)

Thick clouds of rain engulf the entire area, warding off any other visitors. A lanky boy kneels by a grave with two disintegrating roses, his eyes dripping minuscule drops of saltwater. Unforgiving raindrops beat the top of his head, making the boy wish for an umbrella to shield him from the droplets stinging his cheeks. Louis always was prepared, that was simply his thing. He was the one who carried their jumpers in case it was cold; he was the one who never left the house without checking that they had a key (this was prompted by many hours spent on a doorstep without a way to get into their flat). Harry needs Louis, but he can’t have him. Death had cruelly snatched Louis away, wrapping her brittle arms around his torso and dragging him from Harry.

“Hi Lou,” Harry forces out, fiercely swiping at his eyes. “I wish you could give me a sign that you’re listening to me- really, it can be anything. Just let me know you’re there.”

The smallest of breezes tickles Harry nose as it scurries through the cemetery, causing Harry to shiver despite his thick, albeit soaked, coat.

“Are you thinking about me up there, hm?”

Harry clenches his eyes tight, blocking out any source of light that might pierce the clouds. Tears flood out from his closed lids lke a waterfall, streaking down his face in distorted paths.

“Louis-“ It’s choked out, a strangled plea to hold him again, to relish his warm embrace, to hear his voice one more time. It’s Harry’s fervent plea to the heavens, asking to say goodbye to the one he loved.

Several moments pass until Harry remembers why he came here. Catiously, he uncurls his locked fist and lays the two roses on the headstone, smoothing out the crumpled petals.

“I brought you flowers, Lou. You probably think it’s sappy, the surviving boyfriend bringing his dead lost one roses, but it’s not as sappy as the reason.

Harry inhales, sucking in all the air his lungs can possibly take. His fingers dance a melancholy waltz over the inscribed words; the ones that tell who’s buried deep under the stone and dirt, slowly being removed from everyone’s memories. Except Harry’s. Louis will always hold a piece of Harry’s fragile heart in his hands, and nothing can change that.

“These roses will die and shrivel up into nothing but a sorry mix of flower and dirt, but that’s okay. It’s us, Lou. One day, we’ll both be gone from the earth and from memories, and everything else. And that’s okay, because the same atoms that withered away with the roses will never fade, they’ll always exist. Just like our love, Louis. It’s not going anywhere, even with one of us gone. I will always love you, and that I can promise.”

Knees creaking, Harry stands to leave, his frame casting a shadow over the grave as he turns to bid the headstone goodbye before finding his way home.


End file.
